


Shimmer

by NeoSilver



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dreams, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Not A Fix-It, OC narrator - Freeform, Post-Sburb/Sgrub apparently, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2665760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoSilver/pseuds/NeoSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The author ends up proving why binging on Homestuck between homework and bed isn't always a good thing.  A series of dreams where he ends up sharing a house with John and Vriska.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's not hard to tell a dream from reality; the presence of several well-stocked bookshelves and a fire place were something of a giveaway. Some of those Big Fat Differences from reality.

The other giveaway was my guest; the one with gray skin and candy-corn colored horns.

I silently kept myself from swearing. I don't mind unexpected drop-ins, but trolls tended to be a bit much. Vriska Serket, more pointedly, was beyond “a bit much”.

“Your books leave much to be desired,” she comments. I frown a little, partly from the comment, and partly because actually hearing her words leaves out the quirk of her typing. C'est un dommage, that. I sigh, pulling loose the earbud from my left ear.

“That might be because those are the cookbooks. You'd probably prefer the bookshelf on the opposite wall.” The words are measured, patient, even. Even in dreams, I've too much to do to justify getting into an argument. Or a knockdown, drag-out brawl that Vriska would likely win.

There was silence again, for a merciful while. How long, I'm not sure; several passes of the song I had on loop. It was a sharp, annoyed tap on my shoulder that brought me out of my focus on whatever project was occupying my time. I pulled my earbuds free again and fixed Vriska with my best annoyed glare.

“You have no FLARP books!” Vriska said, shaking the stack of books in her hand. I rolled my eyes reflexively, and found myself seized by the shoulders.

“I don't FLARP. Or LARP, as the human term for it goes.”

Vriska didn't bother to adjust her expression, but didn't looked pleased.

“Does playing one of several strains of rainbow drinker appeal to you?”

“No,” Vriska admitted between grit teeth.

“A nobel, guildsman, or person of faith in a future in which the stars themselves are seen to fade and die?”

“No,” Vriska said again, plopping dejectedly into the recliner in the corner. “Too Sgrub-like.”

“A member of a group of adventurers in a steampunk universe where the world is covered in a substance that blocks out all light?”

It took her a little longer to reply to that one. “Maybe. No. I dunno!”

“Well, until one of those sounds appealing to you, you're stuck with the tabletop.” I turned back to my project, looking it over.

“What about dinner? I'm getting hungry here!” Vriska leaned forward, glaring what I'm sure was meant to be some flavor of death at me in an attempt to make me get up and cook. It wasn't working. At all. After all, I wasn't an only child, and I'd long since gained immunity to that kind of thing.

“Not my night to cook, Vriska,” I snapped irritably. “If you can't wait for whoever's supposed to deal with dinner tonight, then go get a snack out of the pantry. Otherwise, put a sock in it and let me finish my damn Lit project!”

Vriska snapped backwards as though I'd backhanded her. The expression on her face shifted, from an almost hilarious bewildered shock to an absolute fury I was more familiar with than I cared to admit. She opened her mouth to say something, but it snapped shut as the front door opened and shut.

“Hey, I got pizza!”

I didn't recognize the voice; the expression on Vriska's face told me she did. It also narrowed my list down considerably. It was either Tavros or-

-or the young man with glasses and dark hair who wandered into the living room, whose jovial expression fell when his eyes caught sight of Vriska.

The third member of this household was John Egbert.

Dammit.

For a moment, none of us spoke. There weren't words to be said. There was pain in the air, a deep emotional hurt from wounds both had assumed scarred over. Vriska stood, unsteadily, and all but bolted from the room. She'd been holding back tears, much to my own surprise.

I think John had seen it as well; he shoved the pizza into my chest with a half-hearted, quickly muttered “Sorry” and gone after her.

I set the pizza aside, leaving my headphones off. I felt guilty for eavesdropping, sure, but I also wanted to make sure neither of the god-tiers lost their tempers and did something they'd regret. Razing the house, leaving us sans shelter in the icy fall rains so prevalent in Portland, for example.

So they argued; I listened. They continued to argue, and yell, voices carrying across the house. Most of it was standard fare; he'd apparently forgotten her, he protested that hadn't really been him, but the him from an alternate timeline. (The little lucid part of me lurking at the back of my mind noted the bleak humor that they were arguing in a dream that wasn't in their timelines, either.) How she hated what she felt for him, how he made her weak. His protest that it wasn't weakness.

And so on, and so forth, until they'd both gone hoarse. I, in the meantime, had downed two slices of pizza and long gotten bored of trying to follow what they were talking about. I was also sick and tired of trying to work on the Lit class project, so I shut down the laptop. Unplugging it, and stopping in the kitchen to dump the pizza in the fridge, I head for the stairs.

“Hey!” I half-yelled down the hall. “Pizza's in the fridge.” John nodded in reply, and went back to round whatever in his argument with Vriska through her closed bedroom door.

Tomorrow, Silver, I told myself. Deal with their screwed up relationship tomorrow. Sleep now.


	2. Chapter 2

I walked heavily down the stairs. Scratch that. I walk heavily pretty much everywhere before I get my morning coffee. A trait which, I noted with some satisfied amusement, extended to myself in dreams.

I cast a glance down the hall. Surprise, surprise. John was curled up asleep against the frame of Vriska's door. Well. “Not entirely unexpected,” I muttered to myself as I half-stomped to the coffee pot and set it to working.

It gurgled and chugged as it made that precious morning potion without which I am non-functional. I, who was leaning against the counter staring out the window. It was pleasant enough morning, I supposed. At least it wasn't raining yet, and wasn't the ominous near-black the sky had been previously.

My thoughts were derailed by the sound of a door opening. Vriska stepped out of her room, over John, turning to look at him. She made a sound, soft enough I almost missed it beneath the coffee pot and the fridge. It was somewhere between annoyance and affection, and the fact I'd noticed earned me a death glare.

Or maybe Vriska was no more a morning person than I was. Either or.

I poured out the first cup of coffee for myself when Vriska began rummaging around for breakfast. “Plenty of pizza left over,” I pointed out.

My response was a grumble. Probably the most neutral response I'd gotten from Vriska since this ridiculous series of dreams started. I shrugged, adding the usual cream and sugar to my coffee before softly reciting my usual pre-coffee spiel. That done, I took the first sip.

The effect was immediate; neurons buzzing to welcome life. I smiled almost dopily, and shifted into a sheepish grin when I realized Vriska was looking at me as I was completely outta my gourd. “What was that?” she asked me increduously.

I took a deep breath and recited it at normal volume.

“It is by will alone I set my mind in motion.  
It is by the beans of ja'va that the thoughts acquire speed,  
The hands acquire shakes,  
the shakes become a warning.  
It is by will alone I set my mind in motion.”

Vriska's head tilted, as though my words couldn't possibly be what I'd said. (Normal reaction, that.) Then she shook herself and pulled a mug from the cabinet. “Whatever gets you through the day, Silv.”

I smiled, shrugged, and kept sipping at my coffee.

John, by this point, had roused from his spot in the door of Vriska's bedroom, stumbling into the kitchen and plopping down in a chair.

“So. Didja crazy kids hash out your problems last night?” I asked after a long moment.

“Sort of,” Vriska said, sitting down at the table, next to John. Well, on the side next to his. I joined them. “At least, we're okay. Mostly.”

I stomped the urge to roll my eyes down, then fixed them both. “Look, the two of you have gone from a bunch of bored kids playing a game, to teenaged deities saving the multiverse, to a couple of normal young adults heading into college in a world you're not entirely familiar with. Things have changed a lot for you guys. Your relationship might be one of 'em. Give it some time.”

John managed a glare, and I raised my hands. “Don't, John. Whatever is going between you two is your business and yours alone. I've my own relationship to deal with, all right?”

John seemed to relax, and Vriska stifled a bit of a laugh. I shook my head. “Whatever quadrant-suite thing is going on is your damn business. Mine is reminding you when rent and utilities come due so we keep a roof over our heads.” I paused, taking a gulp of coffee. “And finding somebody to take that basement room. Beyond that...we'll see.”

“So we're not friends?” John asked. I shrugged.

“I'm not the friendliest guy. But we'll see.” I shook my head, but looked John in the eyes. “We'll see. Don't have a lot of friends. Can't afford to turn away potential friends.”

“Weak,” Vriska murmured, teasing taking much of the barb from the statement. Not, mind, that it bugged much after so many years.

“'True power is the bonds between people',” I quoted and finished off my coffee.

“Anyways, are there any FLARP- er, LARP groups around here?” Vriska asked.

“Dunno. Like I said last night, I don't do that kind of thing. Get a group together, I'll run something on the tabletop. But live action is beyond me.” I stood. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I've a day to go on with.”

“Smell ya later,” Vriska said, turning back to John. “So, John, what're we going to do for breakfast?”

“Eggs?” he suggested. Vriska's answer was noise as I went upstairs.

\---------

I came down to more bickering. Thankfully, it wasn't about relationships, but about how long to properly cook bacon.

“Crispy,” I said, making them both jump in surprise. “You cook it until it's crispy.”

Vriska smirked, and John crossed his arms and sighed in defeat. 

“So.” I leaned on the wall. “Any leads on folks who might want the basement?”

Vriska rounded on me. “Isn't that supposed to be your job?”

“Would you rather have someone you know and trust? Or do you want me to start in on my list of potential applicants?” I retorted. Vriska looked at me for a long moment.

“I don't think anyone trust me,” she admitted softly. John put a hand on her shoulder. “Current company excluded,” she amended. John smiled, puffing up happily.

“Well,” he said, looking at me nervously, “I was talking with Rose. She and Kanaya are looking for a place. I know it's small, but, well-”

“Done. Let 'em know the basement is open, and they can come look.” I opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of juice. “Even share of the rent and utilities.”

“Great, the rainbow drinker and her girl are moving in,” Vriska said. John elbowed her. “What? Just doesn't seem like fun.”

“Then get a tabletop group together,” I commented, bound for the door. “I'm off.”


	3. Chapter 3

Let it be known: I hate windstorms. Hate them. I hate the noise. I hate the damage. I hate the weather they tend to usher in. I absolutely, unyieldingly hate them.

You would too, if you grew up in a house that would shift six inches in any direction when the wind hit 22 miles an hour.

It was, of course, the big reason why all three of us were currently clomping around the yard, picking up the detritus strewn about by the storm. Yes, clomping. It's hard to move any other way in fishing waders, which we'd abruptly started wearing after a misstep by John (into the much softer ground of the empty flowerbed) left him halfway up his shin in cold mud.

I'm sure you're getting the picture.

“John, buddy...” I trailed off, trying to carefully pick my words as John struggled to free the oversized wader from yet another spot where the lawn was more swamp than soil. “I think Rose and Kanaya are going to be here soon. You wanna go make sure things are in order? Not much left out here, besides. Vriska and I can finish up the Foreign Object Walk.”

John's muttered reply isn't something I'll repeat (less due to content than comprehensibility), but he took the out and stomped towards up the driveway, angrish mumbles trailing in his wake.

“It's going to be a good afternoon, isn't it?” I asked Vriska in a chipper tone I didn't feel. Her reply was an expression suggesting I'd taken complete leave of my senses.

I was living with a troll and a human with serious relationship baggage. I suspect that if this isn't a dream, then odds are I'm not all there in the sense department.

“You think letting John be on his own for a bit will cool him off?” Vriska asked.

“Sure,” I replied. “And if it doesn't, you can just hug him. That ought to calm him down.”

Vriska stopped, glaring at me as I hauled another load of branches down to the curb. “Why do you push so hard on that? It's kinda creepy.”

I paused, standing for a long moment. “Honestly? Because John seems to bring out the best in you. Because he seems to be the reminder that whatever you were back on Alternia in the timeline you came from, here it's different. You're different. You don't have to be that person anymore.”

I threw the branches into the pile. Vriska didn't move. “Doesn't change what I did.”

“No, but the timey-wimey ball has mitigated it, and you have the chance to change.” I shrugged my shoulders, as much out of frustration as anything else. “That being said, it'd be as dysfunctional as pretty much everyone else. Too easy in this world to slip back into old habits, be comfortable being lazy.”

Vriska finally came down and dumped the last of the branches in the surprisingly large pile. “True.” We started back up back up the driveway. “So, here's a question for you. Did you really throw Eridan out of Karkat's place?”

I was silent for a long moment. “He made a joke I found in infuriatingly poor taste during the housewarming party,” I said flatly. “I decided he needed to be ejected post-haste. And that's all that will be said on the matter.”

“Did you mean to throw him into the rose hedge?”

“Happy coincidence.” 

We stepped through the back door, into the combination kitchen/dining room. John was seated at the table in such a way that his eyes were level with the middle of the mug holding his hot chocolate. Vriska wandered over to him, and I got busy cleaning out my tea infuser to make a cup of Earl Grey.

All the activity stopped when we heard the door knock. “Well,” I murmured as the other two members of the household got up and head towards the living room, “Showtime.”

Greetings were warm. Mostly. Well, the ones to John were warm. Vriska and I had to settle for civil. Vriska because the only people who had much trust for her were John and I. Me, because Rose didn't know me at all, and Kanaya only knew me from the times we crossed paths in our classes. John happily led the way to the basement, the five of us clambering down the stairs.

It wasn't much to see; dull white walls and dark red carpet. Couple of rooms. Well, one room, one big living space, really. Kanaya, however, was enraptured by it, planning where everything would be. 

“Does that mean you'll take it, then?” I stage whispered to Rose, who was facepalming at Kanaya's excitement. After a long moment, she whispered her answer to me.

“Yes.”

I nodded and headed back upstairs. “I'll go get the lease, then,” I replied.

**Author's Note:**

> I never noticed this until recently, but a lot of the songs I grew up listening to are kind of bitter about relationships and love. Mind you, one of those songs gave this fic its title and was the foundation for the story. It was initially a lot goofier than this. And that, really, is all that need be said for those drafts of this.
> 
> Yes, it's my first Homestuck story ever. Yes, it's probably a bit off character. But it seemed like a good idea to write this all down...


End file.
